Bad Memories
by Hutchie
Summary: The night before they leave Voodoo Island, Hutch is thrilled about all the available fresh fruit, and Starsky feels bad about what he did because of Papa Theodore.


_Originally written for the Me and Thee Wish List on LJ, for Nicky Gabriel._

**Bad Memories**

by Allie

With all the flights booked, people eager to get away from the scandal and danger on the island (even though it was now past), there were plenty of hotel rooms. Enough for Starsky and Hutch to book separate ones, even. Fine and well; it let him get away from the blond's snoring, anyway. Unless it meant something more. Something like, Hutch didn't trust him anymore…

#

"Pineapple?"

"Sure," said Starsky, agreeable-like. He accepted the chunk of fresh-cut, yellow fruit. There was certainly something to be said for fresh fruit. Almost made it easy to go along with Hutch's healthy-eating plans.

Hutch smiled, and began to peel another fruit with a knife. "Wait till you try this mango."

"Funny looking fruit," observed Starsky, leaning against the railing. They'd ended up sitting on Hutch's balcony, not talking much, just hanging out and eating an informal snack-like supper.

Hutch cast him a quick grin. "Funny looking? You're calling this baby funny-looking?" He held up the half-peeled mango, with its orangish flesh and red and green tinted skin.

"Yeah, funny-looking." Starsky took another slurp of pineapple.

"Starsky, this is-this is the perfect opportunity. You'll probably never again have the chance to eat so many fruits at their natural stage of perfection-the freshest, ripest, and least bruised you'll ever find them."

"I'd trade all the 'perfection' on the island for a chance to get off this rock sooner." It gave him the creeps. This terrible place. Couldn't understand why Hutch wasn't more concerned about it. After all, it was the place where Starsky had…

Hutch shook his head, wearing a wide, lazy grin. "Starsk, you know what you are? Uncultured."

Starsky gave him a squinty-eyed look, and sucked on pineapple rind. "So? I'm not a yogurt."

That made Hutch laugh and slap his knee. "Hah! Not a yogurt…! Here, eat some mango. You'll love it." He handed over a sliver of the orangish yellow fruit, grinning.

"Why not just give me half?" Starsky accepted the piece.

"You can't cut it exactly in half. There's a big pit in the center."

"Just like this island."

"Huh?" Hutch looked up, but Starsky ignored the questioning expression and slurped down the fruit. He made a face, but it wasn't really half bad-just different.

"See? Isn't that good?"

"Juice it, mix it with some booze…"

"Starsky, you have to experience food in its natural state to get the true flavor ."

"The only food I'd like to experience in its natural state right now is a hotdog. A hotdog cooked in old murky water, slapped on a hotdog bun, splashed with some mustard, ketchup, relish, and onions-the works." He licked his lips, almost tasting the delicacy, and spread his hands out to demonstrate the pure, encompassing power of a hotdog.

Hutch regarded him with disgust.

Starsky lowered his hands. "What? You like a good hotdog, too." He was mumbling; great; he was mumbling!

"A _good_ hotdog, yeah. Starsk, eat some real food." He motioned to the bowl of tropical fruit sitting on the little balcony table, and turned and headed back into his apartment, still holding the mango and knife.

Starsky stared after him, then he turned to regard the fruit, uncertainly. "What's this brown thing?" He picked up a furry brown fruit.

"Starsky, do not tempt me."

"Huh?"

The blond turned and shook the mango at him. "You know very well what that brown thing is. We had it in a salad just a few weeks ago."

"A fruit salad?" guessed Starsky. He usually avoided the weird things in such concoctions; pretended to eat, but only really ate the things he recognized.

"Let me give you a clue. It's not brown on the inside."

"Oh, great. Now we're playin' twenty questions?" He debated throwing the brown thing against the floor. When it squished, he'd know what color it was inside. But that would be wasting food. "Hey, toss me the knife."

Hutch cast him a 'look.' "Starsky, we don't throw knives."

"Condescending much?" Starsky got up and stalked into the room after his partner. "Gimme that." He took the knife and whacked that brown thing in half with a little more force than necessary. "Oh. This!" His voice rose a little in surprise. "It's green. Why didn't you say? I remember this thing." He picked up half the kiwi and sucked on it, nibbling at the soft flesh.

"Don't you even wanna peel it first?"

"What for? Hairy on the outside, gooey on the inside."

"Just like you, ya mean?" Hutch made a goofy face at him, and laughed.

Starsky lowered the fruit and stared at him. "Hutch, if that isn't the weirdest thing you've ever said…"

Hutch shook his head, and plopped down on the sofa inside, stretching one leg up onto it. "Nuh-uh, not in the least." He raised the mango and started gnawing on it, working his way around the pit in the middle and pausing to pick off some of the skin. It didn't seem to peel off very easily.

Starsky returned the knife, handle first. He plopped on the chair opposite the couch with a sigh. "Hutch, how come ya aren't mad at me?"

Hutch glanced at him. "What do you mean? Oh, about that."

"Yeah, 'that.' Almost killin' ya," he said in a remorseful undertone, looking down at his knees. He didn't know how he could've been hungry.

"Aw, Starsk." Hutch put a hand on his knee. "You didn't do it on purpose, I know that."

"Yeah, but I still did it." He looked up at his partner, frowning, trying to understand the mellow look on Hutch's face. He looked so content and relaxed.

Hutch shrugged, and took another nibble of mango. "Yeah, it was terrible at the time. But look at it this way-it proves not even drugged and crazy can you really hurt me. I'm not saying I believe Papa Theodore having any power-but whatever he did to you, or drugged you with, it got out of your system awfully quick. Yeah, I was scared when you were coming after me. But it didn't hurt me any more than a rough wrestling match would've done."

"Yeah?" said Starsky, his voice cracking. Seemed like the harder Hutch tried to make him feel better, the worse he felt. He pointed to Hutch's neck. "Then how come you've got all those bruises?"

The blond raised a hand self-consciously to his neck. "They're not that bad, are they? Don't worry about it, Starsk. Bruises heal. We both made it and that's the important thing."

Starsky's Adam's apple bobbed. He jumped up and hurried from the room, rubbing his nose, trying very hard not to let himself break down. He stood in the hall, leaning against the railing, squeezing his hands on it, looking down at the island night.

Hutch was his partner; and he'd broken that trust-Papa Theodore or no Papa Theodore. He'd actually, seriously, tried to hurt Hutch. How could the big blond just shrug that off, pretend it hadn't happened? Why should he cover for Starsky? He didn't deserve to even be Hutch's partner anymore, much less to have his sins glossed over this way.

Tropical-sounding night birds made their voices heard, making the island seem exotic and somehow dangerous. Insects buzzed as loudly as they had during the day. Everything was dark, dark enough even to see the constellations, but it felt as though the night were alive.

Staring out at it, he felt himself tensing, the way he'd done in the jungles of Nam. This island, this crazy place-he didn't belong here any more than he had there. In a way, he knew the rules even less well here.

"Hey."

He jumped and whirled at the touch of a hand on his shoulder.

"It's just me, Starsk." Hutch withdrew his hand. "Hey, are you all right? You look a little wild-eyed."

Starsky laughed without mirth. "I'm all right. You gonna be all right?"

"Of course, Starsk. I'm fine. C'mon."

Starsky allowed himself to fall into step with Hutch, back into the room. Hutch shut the door gently, locking the night outside. The lights blazed cozily, and the balcony on this side looked out safely to the sea, the always-comforting sea.

Hutch turned to Starsky and gave him one of those gentle Hutch smiles. For such a tough guy, Hutch could be real soapy sometimes. He could get choked up over the pain of people he didn't even know. And he'd always had a real soft spot for Starsky.

Right now, that didn't make Starsky feel proud, it just made him feel sick inside. Hutch would forgive him anything, wouldn't he? Even if Starsky didn't deserve to be forgiven, not ever again.

Hutch regarded him, the smile dying away to a look of concern. "You know, if it had been me-"

Starsky raised a hand and shook his head. "Won't work, partner."

Hutch frowned, and tried again. "You weren't yourself. How can I hold that against you?"

"I shouldn't have to be myself to not hurt you." Anytime, any place, and whoever he was-he should never hurt Hutch.

Hutch sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Me and thee?" he tried, evoking the old phrase of partnership.

Starsky stared at him, feeling his heart beat a little rapidly. He gave an infinitesimal nod. "Yeah. Me and thee."

Hutch broke into a relieved, big grin. "Good! Now get over here and help me finish these star fruits. We've got a lot of those and other things to go through before we leave tomorrow."

Starsky walked over and reluctantly joined him. Hutch gave him a friendly, warm clap on the shoulder, and turned back to the table with its fruit, grinning happily. While he was occupied thus, Starsky snuck a glimpse at his neck. He'd have some ugly marks for awhile.

But, they'd go away-and Starsky never would. Never, never. He'd make up for this fluke. He'd protect Hutch from now on-Papa Theodores of the world or no.

It was him and Hutch-me and thee-all the way. He leaned against Hutch's shoulder, feeling himself getting soapy, too. Hutch turned and smiled at him. "Have an avocado."

"That the red one?"

"No, that's papaya. Or sometimes it's orange. You want that? Here, I have one right here." He lunged forward for the oblong green fruit with mottled orange marks on the outside. It looked a little battered, but Starsky watched, fascinated, as Hutch cut it open, revealing perfect, orangish-red flesh, and round black seeds. "These taste like pepper," informed Hutch, scooping them out and away. He cut a long, thin slice and handed it to Starsky, watched expectantly as he tried it.

"Mm," said Starsky, trying to be positive. It wasn't half bad, but it was by no means going to become his new favorite fruit. (Banana had that spot, and it wasn't going to change any time soon.)

Hutch looked satisfied with that response. He sat down on the edge of the table and cut himself a chunk of papaya, too. "Don't you wish we could eat like this all the time?"

"No," said Starsky honestly.

Hutch raised his eyebrows. "Trade in all this tropical bounty for a cheeseburger, would you, Starsk?"

"Yes," said Starsky, in his stubborn voice, drawing his brows down.

Hutch shook his head, grinning a little. "Starsky, you've got no class."

It was a good sign, if Hutch felt comfortable enough to tease him. Then again, had he ever stopped being comfortable around Starsky? Even right after the incident-the attack, the cliff-he hadn't acted different at all. He'd still been Starsky's partner, sturdy, comfortable Hutch, always trustworthy, always trusting.

Even though Starsky knew he idealized Hutch sometimes, that no human should be able to live up to his expectations, Hutch so often did. Starsky had almost stopped being surprised. Almost. But now he stared at Hutch, taken out of the moment, so grateful for Hutch being the same guy he always was, with no awkwardness at all.

Someday, he knew, the awkward feeling would even leave him, too, and he'd stop remembering his befogged, terrible state, where Hutch had been his enemy, the one person in the world he must kill. It made him feel sick, thinking about it. He put down his papaya slice, no longer in the least hungry.

Fortunately, Hutch didn't seem to notice. He was grinning at Starsky, rather insolently, trying to get a rise out of him. "Did you hear me, Starsk? I said you've got no class."

Starsky grinned back, a little weakly, but trying. "Yeah? Well why should I? You've got enough for the both of us."

Hutch laughed aloud.

Starsky smiled at him, feeling himself begin to relax, too. He'd try one more time, just one, to apologize properly… "Hutch, about what happened-what I did, I'm-"

"Would you forget it, Starsk? I have."

Starsky blinked. "You must have a really bad memory."

Hutch hooked an arm around his neck. "Sometimes that's the best kind to have, partner. Look, I'm fine, I promise. Now how about one of these oranges? You've got to try one."

Starsky tried one of the oranges.

_Author's Note: I realize probably not all those fruits would be in season at the same time, or probably even grow on the same island..._


End file.
